


Transfer Affection

by ZengHuanTheWriter



Category: Mrs Frisby and the Rats of NIMH - Robert C. O'Brien, The Secret of NIMH (1982), ジョジョの奇妙な冒険 | JoJo no Kimyou na Bouken | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure
Genre: 1980s, 19th Century, 20th Century, Adulthood, Alienation, Angst, Anxiety, Autism Spectrum, Bodyswap, Carpe Diem, Childhood, Cold War, Concrete Poetry, Crossover, Drama, Emotions, Existentialism, F/M, Fatherhood, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Identity, Loneliness, Love, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Mother-Son Relationship, Nihilism, Reality, Reflection, Tourette's Syndrome, United Kingdom, United States, country
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:06:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27781231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZengHuanTheWriter/pseuds/ZengHuanTheWriter
Summary: Two brave men who once dissapeared into the void of oblivion came alive. But this time, something unnexpected happened with both of them. Even if the soul still remains, could they be able to live a century apart? Without breaking the chains of Love and Affection?





	1. Pluck For Tomorrow

**_Jonathan was killed today..._ **

Erina...

J-Jonathan!...

**_...while helping with the Plan..._ **

He felt no pain. A single shot is enough...

**_Four years since our departure, and our world is changing._ **

Help! The ship's filled with monsters!

What the...AARGH!

**_We cannot stay here much longer._ **

WAAAaaahhh...

I-I...I c-can't breathe...

**_Jonathan was a dear friend. I am lost, knowing how to help his widow..._ **

Erina...The ship...

I don't know what's happening. It's so surreal... Just like a nightmare...

**_She knows nothing of us, or the Plan._ **

**_Perhaps best that I do nothing at present._ **

Should I cry? Scream? Faint?...

I don't know... But there's one thing I can say for sure...

**_I shall miss him..._ **

Until this ship explodes...Until we burst into flames...

I'll die with you...

**_Jonathan, wherever you are, your thoughts must comfort her tonight..._ **

Sob... Sob... Jonathan...

Jonathan?

E-Erina... Look...

**_She'll be waiting..._ **

T-Take care, Erina. I-It's okay to cry...

B-But you have to live...

M-My mother... She did the same... for me...

The ship has begun to explode! I must do something!

**_...and you will not return._ **

T-take care, Erina...

Here I come, Jojo!

**_Farewell, my friend._ **

Jojo... Jojo... JOJO!

...

He... He's dead...

...

* * *

Jonathan Joestar...

On February 7, 1889, he met with his demise...

His life may be gone into oblivion...

His body may be buried in the sea...

But still he fought until the end.

He didn't died as an ordinary man...

Nor survived as one.

Instead...

He died like a true gentleman he was.

His spirit shall be inherited by the new life inside me...

The heritage for the future...

Will be kept on his descendants.


	2. Junk Culture

_London Bridge is Falling Down_

_Stock Exchange Suffers Crackdown_

_Europe Contaminated by The Plague_

_Apocalypse Now_

_Paris Enclosed on a Siege_

_Wales Banned From Schools_

_Coal is No More a Fuel, Kain Killed Abel_

_Chaplin and Einsten fled_

_Enola Gay Won't Come Back Home_

_Scientists Discover Chromosome_

* * *

_New York Celebrates Big Apple_

_Military Ships Painted in Dazzle_

_The Queen Is At The Castle_

_Max Headroom, Yuppies, Happy Days_

_Coronation Street, A Clockwork Orange_

_Magnavox Produces Odyssey_

_Khomeini Declares Theocracy_

_Prince spawns Controversy_

_Camarate Airflight Crashes_

_£250,000 Spent For Ashes To Ashes_

_Phil Collins Ergues Fame_

_Watergate Scandal is Still a Shame_

_The Pope Ignores the Chilean Claim_

* * *

_Jack the Ripper Terrorizes_

_Steve Biko is Grated by Funeral March_

_South Africa's Raises Apartheid_

_Clarence Thomas Charged of Sexual Assault_

_Earthquake in Port-Royal, Millions Die_

_West Coast Upset of San Andreas Fault_

_Famine Fear Strikes, Apollo and Laika Rises_

_President of US Plans to Build Star Wars_

_Poverty Climbs, Voyager Conquers Mars_

_Spaceship Challenger Accused of Homicide_

_Call No Man Happy Until He Dies_

_Ian Curtis Commits Suicide, John Lennon Retires_

_Thriller Comes In A High Tide_

_Sheffield Musicians Tops The Charts_

* * *

_Edimburgh Addicted on Pakistanese Heroine_

_Mental Health Declines_

_Children Deformed by Thalidomide_

_Twice as Safe_

_He Wants You To Have This Baby_

_Intercourse Means AIDS, Well Said_

_Certified Nike Quality, Third World Man-Made_

_Winners Don't Use Drugs, Mens Don't Hug_

_America's Real Choice_

_Swaggart has its own Private Joy_

_The Choice of A New Generation_

_Feeling Down? Take a Prozac_

_Change For The Best_

_Frankie Says Relax_

_Enjoy_

* * *

_Nikita Raises the Corn_

_Tipper Gore_ _never Swore_

_Guy Fawkes Quartered_

_Former Antichrist About to be Crucified_

_Children Murderer Imprisoned_

_Diana Pursued by Papparazi_

_Oktoberfest and Riocentro Bombing Hired by Nazis_

_900 die, Victory Over Falklands War_

_Margaret Thatcher Elected as Former Prime Minister_

_IRA Murder Attempt at Grand Hotel_

_Simon Says: Speak & Spell_

_Ireland Lives Starving In Hell_

_Latin Fascists Dictatorships Sponsored by Brother Sam_

_Senator Indicted for Abscam_

_Former Actor Ronald Reagan at Presidential Press_

_Princess Di Wears A New Dress_

_Is Michael Jackson's Oxygen Chamber a Flimflam?_

* * *

_It's A Message To You, Rudy_

_Sometimes it's Too Late to Tell The Truth_

_Man Is The Warmest Place To Hide_

_Love At First Bite_

_Years Ahead Of The Competition_

_A Shocking New Vision_

_Fascist God in Motion_

_What Makes It Tick; And Talk_

_Now You're Playing With Power_

_Everything Else Is Child's Play_

_Cancer, You Get a Lot To Like_

_Packs Of Fun For Everyone_

_The Way To Treat A Lady_

_Revive Your Taste_

* * *

_Two Pictures are worth a Thousand Words_

_He'll Give You A Rest During The Rush_

_Underneath All This Beauty is A Mind You Can Respect_

_You can't Drink It Slow if it's Quik_

_They can't Lick our Dick_

_Peaches And Cream_

_Let's Make America Great Again_

_Don't Move, You're Dead_

_Because There Ain't No Black In The Union Jack_

* * *


	3. Ideas As Opiates

_**Sometimes...** _

_**I told myself that everything would be alright...** _

_**Even in the worse of the hardest times...** _

_My name is Elizabeth, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Pendleton._ _I was meant to lead a life full of opportunities, but I just reject it. I was just a reckless mare, wishing to go away from the quiet life of mine to cross throught such distant hills and meadows. Ever since that day I left home, I thought for myself I would lead my life on my own; well, until the day I met a wanderer from a faraway land._

_**His name...** _

_**Jonathan, son of Mr. and Mrs. Brisby.** _

_Every idea I once had about who could be that gentleman was an opiate, or rather, an abstraction of who he was. Jonathan and I shared of the same 'led a life on the run' thought, always moving from one place to another, never staying any place for too long, like the flow of the stream. From an acquaintance to a friend of mine, I was too young and shy to understand what he felt for me, and what did I felt for him either. But now that I'm older, I realized what we both felt for each other. It was no ordinary love, or anything similar, but I've been fooled to think this way for all this time..._

_**Until now.** _

"..."

_It was something bigger than love itself. And for this same 'something', Jonathan was willing to offered up his body to the grave, dissapear like the ashes blew by the wind, like many of us for the same finality. It took me some time to realize what was this something who took Mr. Brisby away from this world we both shared, and why I had to lead my life on my own since the day he left me and went away. Within time, he won my trust, and so I did of his. Thought he never told the secret of his for me, as his last postmortem memento, before the winter season approached, I received the last gift of his. A piece of red cloth, warm as the lost long touch of his._

"...other..."

 _I thought this was Jonathan's last memento, his intention left was to say me 'I won't come back, so accept this in return', but once again, how I was fooled. Now I comprehend for what Jonathan fought for... This something that took his life away from this world... Jonathan once told me about humans, and where they live, throught concrete, woods, sand, some of them even living above the sea, in order to secure their safety. Their heritage._ _How long it took for me to open those eyes of mine and see the truth, there, next to me._

''...mother... ''

 _Here she comes. There it is; Little Theresa, she's once again hanging on my feet. Look those blue iris on her eyes glancing at me... Adorable, isn't it? At the same day I received that red herring of Jonathan's, she was already able to walk. I still remember her first word: 'red'. Theresa kinda resembles me, and him. Timothy, the youngest one, is there, lying on the crib upstairs. On another look, he resembles more Jonathan than me, alike Martin, the middle child. And there's Auntie Shrew._ _She ain't aunt of anyone by blood, but she does her work of taking care of when I'm away, collecting the breakfast,_ _lunch and dinner for tomorrow._ _Sometimes, Martin shouts on her presence, but I know it's not his fault. He has no self control, no way to stop those words to came out of that mouth, but I know he's able to contain it sometimes, for our relief._ _I know he's truly a descendant of Jonathan, like his siblings, because of the will he struggles to maintain below the reasoning._

**_Jonathan..._ **

**_They'll someday understand, it's not too important now. Mr. Brisby..._ **

**_Yet, sometimes, I still miss you..._ **

**_Don't worry._ _Your legacy may be secured..._ **

**_For now._ **

"Mother?"

"Yes, Theresa?"

"I can't sleep... mother..."

"You can't sleep?"

"Yes. Mother, can you sing me a lullaby?"

"Yes, Theresa. Now sing with me..."

_Rain, rain, rain_

_Felt down again_

_Yesterday, yesterday_

_Rain, rain, rain_

_Felt down today_

_The clouds, once again_

_Were gray, as yesterday_


	4. A Faraway Land

My name is Speedwagon. 

Robert E. O. Speedwagon; that's the name I had been given since the day I was born, and reborn on that fateful day, thanks to the resolve of a gentleman no more in this world of ours. And, for some reason unknown to me at the moment, I still remember such name of mine, and his. 

Why? I don't know. 

When you are born in a family of many siblings, no name is given to you easily. This principle goes restrict for the poorest ones of the United Kingdom, as if it was ever united. Children usually die young these days as the yesterdays, and the fathers don't need to recognize a son by its name, unless it surpassed the age of five years ahead of the crib, this, if there's one left. They just prefer to call them on the short lifes spent by number one, two, three, four... the basic numeric system, because the majority of a thousand is illiterate. Schools cost one cent, and given our year 365 days, it costs more than the salary given by them.

Until I had gotten five years-old that I was given the name Speedwagon by my older brother. Father had died of an respiratory disease before my special birthday, where he was going to be the one to give me a name, but his poor lungs couldn't make it in time. Mother cried, and said no words from that day and week onwards, until she gave birth to a baby, who god forgive me, would die a month later. I guess he was going to die even if he still pretended to be alive. To be stuck in the chimney, if it was a boy, or be sewing clothing on the fabric factory for 18 hours, if it was a girl, we'll never know and I don't wanna. 

That's why I hated the rich so much. Richs... such word I cursed on this entirety of my life, as many other robbers and burglars, as the cops call us by, do. Why we had to die for them just live? We lived on, literally, the 'shit' of England. While the horses are constantly bathing the streets with fetid brown rain, smelling putrid as the current state of Thames River, these richs are navigating throught the Water of Leith; while we spend a life to take a third class ferry to see the Logan Rock, a rock ten times similar to the one pushed by those slaves from Egypt to build a pyramid, as these ones who stand above us, while they are given in the first class, what they do is to kiss a rock, from Blarney's Castle, instead of seeing it. And who does want to see a rock, anyway? We live on a city full of concrete 

For the people who turned Dick Turpin into a lovable being, and Richard III into a monster, I don't expect nothing less, I thought once, but there's more to be told, and heard, and seem if you could. I am part of this, after all. I am a british one; why do they can't recognized me as one? They say the police never shooted with a gun in England. Their England. But there, on Ogre's Street, where my body was raised to become such being that resides there, is different. Another England that resides within the England. There's no United Kingdom, where Scotland, Walles, Cornwall, North Ireland, Canada resides together. You can't put salt in a cake flavored by chocolate and call the taste by bittersweet, can you? 

Those who commit robbery live around the same Ogre Street I was raised. Ogre Street... the most dangerous part of London, a cursed place, the Pandora's Box from where all sickenesses began. But, from where exactly the sickness of these people really started? You can't blame the houses they live to justify such on an easy attempt, as if anything is easy by nature. Places like Ogre Street exists because of such gap between us and the rights that hold us alive, or dead. They can be buried in coffins of cherry wood if they are willing to, while we die like corpses fallen into the plague wagons. When winter comes on Ogre Street, shells of cicadas once alive lie there, in the nearest of the corners, in a deep state of a slumber of a silence needed all along.

Wherever there's coal, a canary's life is gone, but this canary here was strong enought to keep on watching where everything will lead to since them. Just a witness of this time, am I. But with time, the creatures change as well, like that Darwin once told in that book. 'The strong ones are the one who will not perish', or maybe it was something like 'the means are justified by its ends'. Whatever, the ancestor of that giraffe I once saw in the zoo had a long neck like that same descendant, which brings up the question: is it mad to say our ancestor is a monkey? Mad, no. Incoherent is the truth told, and the truth show.

Monkeys and us are descendants of a same ancestor, not that we are descendants of monkeys, no. It's the same way to say that spiders are insects, and the flies, the one insects who spreads diseased around there, are born from the flesh. Interesting, mostly what I learned from the world came from the books I stole. But can you call such act by 'stealing'? Those who are already born with money are the truly ones who deserved to be in jail for the crime of stealing. To have the pleasure of literacy or be able to do it had already been stole from me a long time ago; I just took it back to where it was meant to be taken in. 

First came the 'ABC' books, then the '123' ones, until I found myself reading about a guy called Friedrich, the one who wished to return and start everything again, or something like that. I wish I could, but that's only a wish. Maybe someday someone will tell us more about these wishes that fill in our minds, and if it's real that the mind of a criminal mastermind is nothing alike the mind of a priest recitting Job, or a banker that charges interests. Each one of us is an Oliver Twist, but below the waste he used to walk above. Now, coming from a place where the same river stinks for all...

Our tea ain't exclusive to ours, either. It's from India, as Erina told me when she went there on a trip with her father. Yes, Erina... Erina Pendletion, or Erina Joestar, as she became knew since the marriage. Erina told to me tha she decided to go to America because of Jonathan, to spent some honeymoon with his. This, until that bastard, that selfish arrogant being came in, found a way to penetrate as deep as the tip of that knife, the same one who killed the father of Jonathan. Dio Brando, who became DIO when he seemingly gave up from it's humanity, the 'he' kept on that once human flesh. The same human flesh who hurted Jonathan and Erina over past lifes, the beneath the flesh of his that came with the goal to rule over us, over our flesh. 

Jonathan... I can't believe he couldn't make it! 

Why... WHY!?

...

Pardon, Manhattan. This distress from before and maybe now is affecting me today. Unlike Jonathan, I was raised on the dirt side of England. On the same way as DIO, if you insist, but unlike that man, he was a man, I never gave in into this dirt where I had been gathered. My hat used to have a blade hid underneath the thick layer of leather; as a sort of boomerang projectile, that hat became a weapon for my personal use. On each assault, a noble would lose half or the entirety of his or her finger, and how lucky I was to find a navel ring to be sold for bucks. For those who have enough of those, it might had been a few ones who I had received, but the word 'few' doesn't exist on Ogree Street. Each possession is something, no matter how much you have or not, either bless or a curse. 

I'll be truthful, but on that day, that past day... I... how I wanted to kill that noble on that fateful night. Yes, the night that Joestar came in to Ogre Street. After our battle, Jonathan told me he wanted to find the cure for the poison his father ingested, as he suspected of his brother, Dio, to be the culprit. Ever since Jonathan fought bravely against me, and the other punks from Ogre Street, only lefting minor wounds, unlike the ones I left on his arm by that hat, or the ones Dio left on his heart. That Jonathan... how crazy he was. To think he was willing to lose the limbs for the sake of his father, George Joestar. To think as well that, instead of killing me, he only kicked my chest, throwing me against the snow falling over the entire London. 

Now, ever since Jonathan had kept me alive, I wear this chess-patterned hat. It belonged to a special friend of ours. By ours, I mean Jonathan as well. That man was the one who trained Jonathan, taught him the Ripple technique, the way found to counter Dio's vampiric powers. Yes, Dio became a vampire, as it became DIO. That Stone Mask may be gone, alike the lives DIO, and Dio, took away from this world. The world didn't mattered for both, since they had a plan to create their ours. Dio wanted the Joestar fortune by killing George, whereas DIO wanted full control of the world, a sort of domination, but in a higher scale, unlike his other vessel, prior he lose the self control of a being, before he abandoned, threw away the tiny bit of his human vessel to become a monster, blood sucker by such formality. 

That man, or what was once a kind of man, become the whole of a puke. Only Jonathan, taught by his master, the one who once wore this hat, could make it into DIO, and purge the menace he was for good. In the end, or so as we thought, DIO was defeated, and Jonathan cried. I didn't cried, and I would never, but Jonathan was raised with that kind of brother throught all the life of his. Even when Dio used to torture his self, Jonathan felt alright in a way, because Dio was a brother to his, and how he wished that one day they become as one. DIO also happened to share of same idea, and so he found a way to invade that ship heading to America, killed everybody in the crew, except Erina, and a baby, so DIO could fuse with Jonathan. 

That baby... Erina told me Jonathan resisted, until his powers were almost gone; this sure is part of Jonathan's character. He would never allow such defeat to come easily. Not for his, and for others, like Erina, and that baby. A life younger as both, on that day Jonathan died within the explosion, Erina came in safety, together with that infant such a gentleman as Joestar wished for his wife to live with, instead of his, who had sacrificed for the sake of others than his. Jonathan was never told that he save both ladies, and the son of his. Yes, Erina is awaiting for little Jonathan, or maybe it was George, the same name of her husband's father. I hope they both are alright, as I head towards yours, America. 

There are so many people on this world that become special on the aftermath of what once where their lifes. Mr. Zeppeli, who once was the owner of this hat, Mr. Joestar, who changed my life, and so did with others. Even a zombie went overcome by Jonathan's spirit before he faded away, with a pain forgotten from the days he used to live, agreeing to such destiny of his. His name was Bruford, and the Luck left of his became the Pluck of Jonathan. So do I become this Speedwagon, now heading for a better condition of living . 

But, in the end, soon or later, we will all turn into dust, like the other selves who turned into such to let us live a bit longer. To live a bit longer, to think about dissapearing into ashes for all eternity...


End file.
